A Midwinter Night's Tale
by Zeplerfer
Summary: Armed with a Shakespeare play and a love potion, Sealand has crafted his best plan yet to use blackmail to win recognition as his own country. Too bad the love potion doesn't seem to work on America and England. Christmas setting. USUK and other pairings.
1. Setting the Stage

**A Midwinter Night's Tale: a Fanfic in Three Acts**

**Pairings:** USUK, some one-sided silliness, PruCan, and hints of Frain.

**Warnings:** Rated T for mild swearing, innuendos, and Pedo!Spain.

**Story based on: **a mash-up of _The Winter's Tale_ and _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Do I need to give spoiler warnings for 400 year-old plays? If yes, consider yourself warned.

* * *

**Act I: Setting the Stage**

_London. Monday. One Week before Christmas.  
_

Sealand trudged home through the snow, muttering all the while about jerk England and his stupid bossiness. Okay, so plan #471 to become recognized as an independent country hadn't worked. Still, Sealand was positive that plan #472 would be the one to finally succeed, just as soon as he came up with it. In the meantime, England had grounded him and threatened to feed him scones until he learned to behave. Sealand wished he was home with Sweden and Finland. All of their food tasted so much better, even the salted fish. Since his name was _Sea_land, he felt like eating fish was part of his national heritage, or definitely would be as soon as he developed a national cuisine.

But instead of developing his nation's culinary arts—and finally showing jerk England who was the better cook—Sealand had to spend his time doing normal kid activity like homework. Even worse, because England was his teacher, all of his homework involved stodgy old books and plays. Frankly, if the literature was older than he was, Sealand wasn't really interested in it. Why couldn't he read modern stuff? Sealand liked to talk about America and his cool new graphic novels, but that just made England more annoyed.

'Pay attention in school or you'll end up as dumb as that ungrateful git,' England always warned whenever Sealand dared compliment America. Sealand didn't care. He liked America. America had once been a downtrodden colony like him, but he had risen up and secured his independence. Admittedly, America had slightly more land area and natural resources, even at the time of the revolution, but a micronation could dream, couldn't he?

Sealand dusted off the snow from the nearby window sill and grabbed the spare house key. He unlocked the door and dumped his boots and coat on the floor. He wandered into the kitchen for a snack. Unfortunately, nearly all of the food was England's food. Sealand settled for eating a twinkie that America had left behind from a visit during WWII.

It was still good.

Thinking of America gave Sealand a clever idea for revenge against jerk England. He hurried over to the cabinets and began searching for England's tea. He could have his own little tea party by dumping the tea into the toilet! It would be hilarious to see England's reaction. When Sealand found the tea tin, a note in England's elegant script caught his attention.

_Dear Sealand,_

_I have put a curse on this tea tin. If you touch so much as a single leaf, you will spend the rest of your life as a rabbit._

_Love,  
England_

Sealand laughed dismissively, but his hand slowed as he reached for the tin. England wouldn't really do that to him, right? Then he remembered the incident with France and the turtle, and he decided that England probably would. England was incredibly possessive when it came to his tea. Heck, the guy had colonized India just to make sure he had a steady supply of the stuff. That hadn't worked out so well in the long run, but England was still fanatical when it came to tea. Sealand was going to have to find another route for revenge.

Then a dusty pink bottle at the very back of the cupboard caught Sealand's eye. It had a heart-shaped stopper. Sealand pulled it out and read the label. "Love-in-Idleness Extract" said the front, while the back contained a long list of use instructions, warnings, and fine-print disclaimers.

_For Use: Place one drop in subject's beverage. After imbibing, subject will fall madly in love with the closest person of suitable age and gender. Effects last for one hour. _

_Disclaimer: True Love's kiss will nullify the potion's effect._

_Warning: Do not use in the presence of known pedophiles._

Sealand skimmed over the instructions for use and smiled brightly. He had a new plan for blackmailing England into recognizing his independence: he would convince England to invite some other nations over to his house. Then he would put some of the love juice into England's drink, catch England's embarrassing actions on video, blackmail England, and independence would finally be his. Because he was still grounded, all he needed was the perfect idea for how to convince a man who was literally an island to invite some nations to his house.

* * *

England sighed to himself as he carried his heavy briefcase home from the nearest Tube station. It was only the first day of the week-long World Conference in London and Sealand had already disrupted the proceedings. He wished he could send the boy back to live with Sweden, but England felt it was important to have his little brother around for the Christmas holidays. Perhaps he could manage to have a normal relationship with at least _one_ of his brothers. Unfortunately, he realized too late that auctioning off his brother probably did not count as normal family relations by even the most liberal standards.

In the entryway, England noticed Sealand's discarded winter clothing cluttering up the otherwise immaculate space. He carefully hung up the coat and straightened the boots. Sometimes Sealand's sloppiness reminded him of America, and the thought of his former ward brought a twinge of regret and other feelings that he quickly brushed aside. England entered the living room and was surprised to see Sealand reading on the couch.

"Hi England," said Sealand cheerfully, as he glanced up from _A Winter's Tale_, his assigned play for the week. Apparently he was no longer annoyed that England had kicked him out of the conference earlier that day. Or maybe he was just putting on a show of good behavior to avoid being grounded for the rest of his immortal life.

England breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he wasn't going to have to deal with Sealand's prankster antics at the moment. He had been worried the boy would try something drastic after their most recent spat. "So what do you think of the play?" England asked, knowing it wasn't one of Shakespeare's more popular plays. The Bard himself had rather loved it, but popular tastes could be so fickle.

"It's great! This guy gets mauled by a bear. Rawr!" Sealand eagerly pantomimed a bear eating a man with exaggerated hand gestures.

England smiled fondly at Sealand's antics. "I'm glad you like it."

"Yeah, it's super awesome! You know what we be fun? I could do a puppet play and you could invite a bunch of nations to come watch," Sealand suggested with an eager glimmer in his eye. The boy had clearly caught the Shakespeare fever.

"I'm don't particularly care for hosting parties…" England hesitated. His house held a lot of liquor. Enough liquor to keep many pirates happy for many years. He was worried that hosting a party would be asking for trouble. Nations and liquor were a dangerous combination, as anyone who had met drunken England could attest.

"You could sew the puppets for me… come on England, it'll be fun!" Sealand pleaded. It reminded England of another blond boy who had always begged for favors and who had always received them. England wouldn't spoil Sealand the way he spoiled America, but surely a little Shakespeare puppet play wouldn't hurt.

England relented and allowed Sealand his choice of a few guests. He expected his little brother to choose his micronation friends. Instead, Sealand chose America and Prussia.

Sealand grinned to himself, pleased at his ability to pick out two really embarrassing nations for good blackmail material. When he got drunk, England always ranted about America, so Sealand knew that the British nation would be horrified to be caught in a compromising position with 'that ungrateful git.' And England had never forgiven 'that tasteless albino' for pretending to nearly die after eating his scones, so Prussia was a natural choice. Probably the only nation that would be more embarrassing to England would be France, but Sealand did not see any possible way he could convince England to invite 'that wine bastard.'

England agreed, although he arched an eyebrow at the choice of America and Prussia. Given the way Sealand adored America, the choice wasn't too surprising. And Sealand and Prussia seemed to have some sort of strange friendship for reasons England would never understand. Probably because neither of them had any actual duties—since Prussia hadn't been a real nation for decades—and they both enjoyed pranking world conferences in their spare time.

England gave a mental shrug. It could have been worse. It could have been France. Still, England wished that Sealand had chosen a more literate country, like Japan. But perhaps it was best to keep Sealand away from Japanese literature, since some of it could get rather perverted. Reading Shakespeare was supposed to cure Sealand of his unfortunate tendencies to mimic America's atrocious abuse of the English language. Maybe watching the play would provide some small measure of cultural improvement to clueless American. A nation could hope.

* * *

He had been busy with work after the first and second days of the conference, so England didn't get around to calling America until Wednesday. He hoped the other nation hadn't already made plans for Friday, just because it would be such a disappointment to Sealand. England certainly didn't care either way. He dialed the American's number and waited for the line to connect.

"Hey England, whazzup?" an American voice answered.

England shuddered, but valiantly resisted the urge to correct America's grammar. Given the failure of his first thousand attempts to teach America proper grammar, he was beginning to suspect it was a lost cause. After a pause, he remembered the purpose of his call. Puppet play invitation first, correct usage of the English language second.

He cleared his throat. "America, I was wondering if perhaps you might be able to come over to watch a puppet play that Sealand wants to perform on Friday night. He's really quite excited, so I'm hosting a small party. Don't get the wrong impression," he hastily added, "I just wanted more people there for Sealand's sake. For some reason, the boy rather likes you."

America laughed. "Yeah right, England. I bet you've called everyone else and they all said no."

England couldn't decide which was more embarrassing, to admit that America was the first person he called, or to pretend that everyone else had declined his invitation. He settled for avoiding the question and appealing to America's gluttony. "If you come, I'll provide food," he offered. He had never known America to turn down free food.

"Food? Sweet! Okay, I'll come on two conditions. One, you have to come to my Christmas party. Two, you have to order take-out."

England sputtered. "Why in the name of the Queen would I want to go to your party?" He was not pleased that America wanted him at the party. Not in the slightest. It was just a ridiculous party with disgusting food, loud music, and too many nations. England preferred a quiet evening at home.

America snorted. "Come on, it's not like you have anything better to do."

"I'll have you know that I can think of any number of activities I would rather do than watch people eat neon cakes and dress in santa suits."

"Embroidery, gardening, and getting shit-faced are not more fun than hanging out with a hero. In fact, as a hero, it's my duty to save you from your boring self!" America laughed.

"I'm not boring. You're uncultured." England retorted.

"Well, I'll prove I'm not 'uncultured' by watching a Shakespeare play, if you prove you're not boring by coming to my awesome Christmas party."

England scowled, annoyed at himself for walking into the dare. "Fine, we'll order pizza and I'll come to your stupid Christmas party. My delicious cooking is wasted on you anyway. Come over at 7pm on Friday."

"Okay, Iggy, it's a date!"

* * *

America laughed as he hung up the phone, just imagining the gloriously red blush on England's face. Annoying England never got old. The older nation was just so adorable when he got flustered that America couldn't resist. And for some reason, America was really good at making him flustered. It was probably because he was a hero.

"Do you have an actual date with England or are you just teasing him again?" Canada asked softly. He was sitting on the hotel sofa with his pet bear on his lap and the remote in his hand. The movie was paused on the screen, which Canada must have done when America answered his cell.

America looked over in surprise. He had forgotten that his brother was even in the room. Then he remembered that of course Canada was in his room because they always watched movies together on Wednesday nights. They had very similar tastes, although Canada liked to complain that America stole his best actors. America couldn't help it that Hollywood was obviously way more awesome than the Great White North. Warmer too.

"England just wanted me to come over on Friday for some Shakespeare puppet play that Sealand is doing. I only said yes because of the free pizza."

"Uh-huh. I can't decide who's more dishonest, you or England."

"What?" America asked as he plopped back down on the couch and shoved some popcorn into his mouth.

Canada sighed. Subtle hints didn't work with America. Blatant hints didn't work with America. Screaming would probably work, but Canada had never been able to reach the necessary volume, so America was just going to have to figure it out on his own. Or maybe he would never figure it out. "Did you forget that you were planning to go see that new horror film with me on Friday?" Canada asked.

"Oh, yeeeah. Sorry, bro. How does a puppet play sound instead?" America grin apologetically. And of course, Canada immediately forgave him. Canada couldn't help it—he handed out forgiveness as liberally as he drizzled maple syrup on pancakes. He needed to start going to AA meetings. Apologetics Anonymous.

"I don't think England invited me," Canada reminded.

America waved a hand dismissively. "I'm sure he won't care."

"You mean he won't notice," Canada corrected with a slightly bitter tone. "I'm sick of being so invisible! You don't remember me half the time. And England doesn't remember me either, even though I was his colony for more than a century. I think France only remembers my name because we have the same hair and France is just that vain."

A determined look crossed America's face. "You're right, Mattie! I'm not going to stand for this any more. Don't worry, the hero will come up with an amazing plan to make sure that people pay attention to you!"

Canada recognized that look. It was the same earnest expression America had before he did something really brave or really stupid, oftentimes both. "That's really not necessary," he said softly, but America ignored him. As usual.

* * *

Prussia had expected that England was calling to invite him to go out drinking. The idea of a puppet party was a complete surprise, but Prussia liked Sealand, so he agreed. In his more honest moments, i.e. when he was seriously shit-faced, Prussia would admit of a slight existential dread. He told everyone that he was still around because his nation was just that awesome, certainly too awesome to die due to a simple matter like no longer having a national border or national government or any citizens, but he honestly had no real idea why he still clung to his national immortality when other empires had perished. Prussia liked Sealand because they were both so similar. If Sealand could maintain his existence based on a single Sea Fort, Prussia decided that there was nothing that could destroy his own awesome self.

Plus, Prussia figured that he would definitely be able to find booze in England's house. An old pirate like England was bound to have some nice stockpiles of rum. That way he would have a chance to make Sealand happy and also indulge in some heavy drinking.

However, the party would be a little boring if it was just England and Sealand. So Prussia did the sensible thing. He reached for the old telephone sitting next to the ratty couch in Germany's basement and dialed one of his two favorite numbers.

"_Bonjour, mon ami_," a seductive voice purred over the line.

"Hey, Francis! Guess who's having a party..."

* * *

As he sat sewing the hand puppets for Sealand after calling Prussia on Thursday evening, England felt a cold chill run across his back, giving him a strong sense of foreboding. He tried to ignore it, drinking a pot of tea to calm his nerves, but the feeling stubbornly persisted. It haunted his dreams with a laugh that sounded suspiciously French.

* * *

END OF ACT I.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

**Shakespeare References**

"Love-in-idleness" is the flower used to make characters fall in love in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. England keeps some of it around because FAIRIES. Obviously.

"Exit, pursued by a bear" is a famous stage direction from _The Winter's Tale_. (The character doesn't actually get mauled on stage, Sealand is using his imagination here.)

**Other References**

Twinkies were invented in the 1930s. Urban legend claims they have a shelf-life of decades. However, they actually only last for around 25 days. Sealand only thinks the twinkies are from WWII.

"No man is an island" is a quotation from John Donne, an English poet who clearly never anticipated the idea of national personifications :)


	2. The Puppet Play

**Act II: The Puppet Play**

_Friday. Four days before Christmas.  
_

England and Sealand rearranged the elegant green sofas in England's living room to face a miniature stage where a small puppet booth provided an area for Sealand to crouch out of sight while his hands manipulated the puppets. England was rather proud of the hand puppets he had been able to sew together on short notice. Even Sealand, not normally given to effusive praise, declared the puppets to be super awesome.

The doorbell rang and England knew precisely who was at the door because only one nation thought that ringing repeatedly would make England walk to the entrance any faster. England frowned and hoped that Sealand appreciated the sacrifices England was making on his behalf by inviting other nations over to his house, especially boorish and rude nations like America and Prussia. He opened the door with a frown.

America grinned broadly and gave the doorbell one more ring.

"Hey England, we're here!"

England rolled his eyes. "'We'? America, when did you start using the royal we?"

"Huh? Why would I use a royal anything? I'm a democracy!"

England suddenly realized that America wasn't alone. A nearly identical nation stood next to him. Who was that bloke again? Drat. England felt like he really ought to remember. He nodded at the other nation.

"Oh hello, lad, sorry that I didn't see you there."

Canada sighed softly. "It's no problem. I'm used to it, eh."

America quickly discarded his coat directly onto the floor and barreled into the foyer without so much as a by-your-leave. "Where's the pizza?" he called as he raced into the kitchen.

England explained that he had waited to order until everyone had arrived, since he knew that America and Prussia liked to be late. He glared to convey his annoyance at their lack of punctuality. America had dozens of electronic devices with clocks, one would think he could manage to arrive on time at least some of the time. Particularly when food was on the line.

"Prussia's coming?" Canada asked softly, startling England, who had once again forgotten about the nation patiently standing next to him in the doorway.

"Er, yes. Sealand specifically asked for him," England explained before they were both distracted by a loud yell from the kitchen. America was trying to find the coke in England's refrigerator, only to discover, to his absolutely horror, that England had no soda whatsoever. England grumbled and yelled back that of course he didn't have soda since it was nasty and rotted teeth. America quickly replied that England's teeth were already terrible so a little soda wouldn't matter, which prompted more yelling from the insulted Brit.

Canada trailed behind England as he walked into the kitchen, once again forgotten. He pulled out his phone and texted Prussia, urging him to arrive soon.

* * *

England glared in irritation at the nation standing in front of his door. He had answered the door expecting to see Prussia. Instead, he found France.

What an unpleasant surprise.

Prussia was crass, crude, alcoholic, and downright insane… and England still found him preferable company to France. England attempted to shove the door closed, but France eeled his way in. The Frenchman slipped off his coat and fashionable scarf, carefully positioning them in the front closet as if he owned the place. It gave England flashbacks to 1066.

England glared and demanded to know why France had invaded his home. Again.

"I was invited," France replied with a blasé tone as he checked his appearance in the front hallway mirror, taking extra care to smooth down his wavy shoulder-length blond hair.

"No you weren't." England crossed his arms. He suspected his continental neighbor had been born without the genetic ability to feel shame. It explained so much about the French.

France smiled and tossed his hair, deciding that 'artistically mussed' was the fashion du jour. He was grateful that he was French, and could therefore appear dishabille, whereas the English could only manage to look untidy. Poor England's tousled hair proved his point. Once he had tended to the important matters (his hair), France deigned to return his attention to trifling matters (the scowling Brit).

"Oh please, a true gentleman doesn't turn away a guest from his doorstep," he said, waiving an elegant hand dismissively. France leaned forward and attempted to kiss the English nation on his cheeks.

England dodged. "A true gentleman doesn't arrive uninvited," he countered.

"Ah-hah! But I do not claim to be a gentleman. You're the one who has adopted the title—and the ensuing responsibilities."

"France!" Sealand exclaimed happily, racing down the hallway to greet the French nation. With France at the party, he would be able to record epic blackmail material. He rubbed his hands in glee. "Did you come with Prussia?" he asked.

France smiled and ruffled Sealand's hair. The micronation annoyed England, so France liked him. "Prussia said that he would be late, so we should start without him. He had to run to get beer. I brought wine." France lifted up a bottle to prove the truth of his words.

England took the bottle grudgingly.

"Good. Your presence is mildly more tolerable when I'm drunk."

* * *

America had sprawled across one of the couches, leaving the other one for England, France, and Canada. Canada found himself stuck in the middle, as usual. Being caught between the English and the French… it was the story of his life.

As the three other nations battled over seats, America called in the pizza order—insisting that England couldn't be trusted to order enough food. He tried to order Hawaiian pizzas, only to discover—to his horror—that Pizza Express had no idea what he was talking about. Fortunately, they had an option called "American Hot." He quickly rattled off his order and clicked his phone shut. Sealand took that as his signal to start.

The play began with two childhood friends, the King of Bohemia and the King of Sicilia, enjoying each other's company. But as one character explained, "a sad tale's best for winter" and the play grew steadily darker. The King of Sicilia started to suspect his wife of cheating with his best friend. Sealand slipped the King Leontes puppet onto his hand, raising it above the stage, and lifted up a tea cup with the other hand as the King delivered his soliloquy.

_There may be in the cup a spider steep'd,  
And one may drink, and yet partake no venom,  
For his knowledge is not infected._

Sealand dropped a live spider into the cup. He had specifically picked one of England's favorite tea cups, hoping to annoy his older brother. In the background, he could hear England make a noise of disgust. Sealand smiled and continued.

_But if one present the abhorr'd ingredient to his eye,  
Make known how he hath drunk,  
His gorge rises, he shakes with violent hefts._

He paused dramatically.

_I have drunk, and seen the spider._

Sealand thought that line was rather weird, since in his experience, nations usually began to see fairies when they started drinking, not spiders. But he decided things must have been different in the 1600s. Maybe there was a big beer-spider epidemic.

Although Sealand started out with the proper Shakespearean lines printed in front of him, he soon grew bored and began to improvise. During the scene where the King of Sicilia accused his wife of adultery, Sealand was pretty sure the Queen's servant Paulina hadn't actually said "King Leontes, why you so jelly?" but America laughed at the line and England scowled, so Sealand declared it a victory.

Of course, the real action would start during the intermission at the end of Act I, when Sealand planned to add the drops of love-in-idleness extract to England's drink. He hurried through the scenes where the Queen swooned, the prince died, and the king declared the baby princess to be a bastard child, until he finally arrived at his favorite scene: the one where a servant abandoned the baby princess on a beach, only to be immediately chased and eaten by a bear. It was karmic justice, ursine style.

"Oh no, this bear is going to deflower me!" the servant puppet yelled.

"Devour!" England instantly corrected.

Francis sighed dramatically. "And here I was starting to think this might be my sort of play."

"Rawr! Rawr! Rawr!" Sealand growled as the bear puppet gruesomely mauled the puppet. He was rather pleased with the fake blood effects. He pulled the curtain shut, and then stepped out in front of the booth to take a dramatic bow.

The nations clapped as England called for a brief intermission. "Would anyone like drinks?" the British nation asked.

Sealand jumped forward eagerly. "Let me get them!"

England gratefully accepted the offer, pleased by Sealand's good host behavior. Apparently the etiquette lessons were finally paying off. He instructed Sealand to bring tea for himself, wine for France, and hot cocoa for America. Canada quietly requested hot cocoa with maple syrup, but no one heard him.

Sealand scampered to the kitchen and prepared one glass of wine and one cup of tea, taking care to add a drop of the love potion to each. It was good that the nations liked stereotypical drinks, so Sealand wouldn't have to worry about giving them the wrong cups. In the background, he heard the doorbell ring and America jump up to answer it. Sealand continued to focus on the drinks, eager to hand them to their intended victims and then film the ensuing bad romance with the video camera he had hidden in the living room earlier.

The micronation carried the drinks to England and France, grinning as both accepted them without a hint of suspicion. They each took a sip. At the very last second, Sealand realized his critical mistake. The seat between England and France wasn't empty. Canada was sitting there! He was just so quiet that Sealand had completely forgotten him.

England and France blinked simultaneously and then slowly turned to face Canada.

England spoke first, reaching for Canada's hands as he pulled the shocked Canadian closer. "Oh love, my heart unto yours is knit, so that but one heart we can make of it," he proclaimed, gazing deeply into the other nation's eyes.

Canada pulled back and sighed. "I'm not America, England. I'm Canada. Remember? Can-na-da," he said, carefully enunciating the syllables of his name.

"Transparent Canada! Nature shows art, that through thy bosom makes me see thy heart," England added tenderly, smiling before he kissed Canada's hand. Canada fidgeted, unsure how to handle the attention. He didn't want America to walk in on this unusual display. He knew America still harbored feelings for England and he didn't want to upset his brother.

"Canada?" France asked hesitantly. Canada turned to see his first caretaker blushing furiously. France. _Blushing_. What was going on here? France shyly looked down at his own hands and nervously twisted a piece of paper.

"Yes, France?"

"Canada, I really like you!" France blurted out. "And I was wondering if you would like to get a cup of espresso with me tomorrow?" he asked Canada with a pleading expression.

"Uh…" Canada replied, too shocked to manage a coherent response. France was asking him on a date! As far as he knew, France had _never_ asked _anyone_ on a date. He just wooed other nations directly to his bed. It saved time and money.

"Hey guys, I'm back, and I got the American pizzas!" America shouted as he burst into the living room, holding nine boxes of pizza with one hand.

Canada turned to look at his brother, but England and France didn't react at all to America's noisy entrance. Both continued to gaze adoringly at Canada, trapped between the two of them on the couch.

"Canada, please say yes!" France begged, still blushing.

England smiled and gently pulled Canada's face closer. England leaned forward and spoke gently, "My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, my tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody."

Canada suddenly realized who to blame. He could recognize one of his brother's idiotic pranks from a kilometer away. This was America's plan to get the other nations to notice him. Somehow, his stupid twin had convinced France and England to play a prank on Canada. It was just like his brother to come up with such a stupid, embarrassing idea.

"Stop mocking me!" Canada shouted as he leaped out of his seat and out of the reach of the suddenly amorous England and surprisingly chaste France. Well, tried to shout. But his voice did manage to reach what other nations would consider to be a normal speaking volume.

"Hey, what's going on? Is France being a pervert again?" America asked as he opened up one of the pizza boxes. Oh god, it smelled delicious. Apparently the English could cook, so long as they made American food. He made food awesome just by slapping his name on it.

"T-this is all your fault. You're the one who came up with the stupid plan!" Canada angrily accused his brother.

"Huh? What?" America asked while chewing a slice of pizza.

"Did you think it would be funny to have France and England pretend to be in love with me?! When I said I was sick of being ignored, this isn't what I meant."

Ignoring the dispute between the twin brothers, England clasped Canada's hands and pulled the larger nation close. "O Canada, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!" he cried, gazing adoringly into Canada's eyes.

"_Angleterre_, you are too forward," France protested softly.

America watched in total confusion. England was acting like France, France was acting like a nun, and Canada thought it was somehow America's fault. Opposite day had come early and no one had told America, which was a tragedy, because America loved opposite day. No wait, he hated opposite day. Gah, it was all so confusing!

"Just stop it," Canada pleaded, reclaiming his hands from England and drawing America's attention back to the present. He gazed at his brother with disappointment, shook his head sadly, and hurried out of the room. France and England immediately followed. America hesitated. He still didn't understand what was going on (was it part of the play?), but he didn't want to leave the pizzas behind. They were going to get cold unless he ate them soon. Why wasn't anyone thinking of the pizzas? After a few moments of painful indecision, Alfred followed after the trio of nations. His gut told him that this was more important than pizza, which was weird, because his gut normally loved pizza.

As America drew closer, the first thing he heard was England calling after Canada. "Stay, gentle Canada; hear my excuse: my love, my life, my soul, fair Canada!"

"_Mon dieu_, how can you pursue both at once?" France exclaimed in genuine shock. "You must pick one love and cleave to them alone."

America spotted France and England ahead of him, looking like they were close to exchanging blows. Well, at least one thing was still a constant in this topsy-turvy world.

England shook his head and glared at France. "All the faith, the virtue of my heart, the object and the pleasure of mine eye, is only Canada," he replied.

America's stomach plummeted. Oddly, it didn't feel like hunger. What was he supposed to do with an illness that food couldn't cure? He looked around for his brother, but the quiet nation had used the distraction of France and England's near-fight to escape again. The two European nations noticed Canada's disappearance at the same time. They gave up their fight and both began searching for their new love in opposite directions. America went back to the love that never deserted him—greasy food.

* * *

Sealand raced around the house with his video camera, trying to capture good blackmail footage of England acting like a love-struck fool. Unfortunately, Canada successfully eluded the two European nations, so Sealand mostly filmed England and France fighting over Canada. If he ever wanted to do a documentary of the Seven Year's War he would have tons of good footage, but none of it was useful for blackmail purposes. After half an hour he gave up. He found America eating pizza in the living room.

The micronation grabbed two slices for himself and plopped on the couch next to the larger nation. He was going to enjoy the fast food while it lasted. At the rate America ate, there wouldn't be anything left in another half hour.

"Hey, are France and England still acting weird?" the larger nation asked as he devoured another slice. The unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't going away, so America decided that he must still be hungry. Yes, food solved everything.

Sealand nodded. "Yeah, last time I checked, they were fighting over my Canada costume." He had really liked that costume. It was too bad plan #261 (Pretend to be Canada) hadn't resulted in independence.

America laughed. "Y'know, you're lucky Russia didn't sit on you during that meeting. Hey, do you want to play video games or something while we wait? I'm bored."

"Can't. England doesn't let me have any video games."

America nearly dropped his pizza in shock. "Duuuude. No wonder you want independence."

They ate their pizza awhile longer, before Sealand broke the silence. "So, what's it like?" he asked. His dreams of independence mostly involved no more charcoal-black scones ever again.

"Huh…? Independence? Oh, it's great! You get to stay up as late as you want, play tons of video games, and never do homework again. But people also start expecting you to do work. It's all, 'America! Stop global warming!' or 'America, if you don't do something the krauts will take over the world!' I don't mind though, 'cause I'm a hero." America flashed his sparkling white smile and gave Sealand a thumbs up sign.

Sealand grinned. "That sounds awesome!"

"Yeah, it's the best…"

America set down his slice of pizza and ran a hand through his hair as he gazed into the distance. What he had told Sealand was true—independence was great. But he'd never expected how much everything changed. One day he and England had been the center of each other's world and the next they weren't even talking. They exchanged nothing more than curt diplomacies for a century. And England didn't come to his birthday parties for two centuries. America was too awesome to have regrets, but sometimes he wished things had ended better. He glanced at Sealand and decided to give the micronation a little warning.

"F-Y-I, England's gonna flip if you ever get your independence. He tends to take this stuff hard."

"Yeah, jerk England complains about you all the time," Sealand cheerfully agreed.

America glanced up and noticed that England and France had trapped Canada between them in the living room. He stood up suddenly. He'd enjoyed his pizza break, but now it was time to be a hero save his brother. He strode forward.

"Stop bugging Mattie!" he yelled, pulling both France and England away from his twin.

And then the strangest thing happened. They went back to courting and seducing Canada as if America didn't even exist. America blinked. "Hey, don't ignore me!" he complained.

"Are you even listening?"

"Come on!"

"…guys?"

Canada caught his brother's eye and shrugged apologetically.

"I'm gonna get a twinkie," America said, walking towards the kitchen. He always dropped off a few delectable cream-filled cakes every time he stopped by London, just in case England woke up one day, realized his food was terrible, and decided he wanted to eat something actually delicious. Sealand opened his mouth to warn America that the twinkies were all gone, but America had already left the room.

Sealand grabbed the camera and prepared for more filming. Eventually he was bound to get some good blackmail potential.

* * *

America leaned against the hallway wall, unwilling to return to the living room. Not even for more pizza. No one was paying him the slightest bit of attention. Even England had suddenly decided to dote on Canada. Sure, Canada was the brother that stuck by his side, but hadn't he always liked America best? It wasn't fair. Or maybe it was fair, which just made it worse.

Lost in his thoughts, America didn't notice Canada approach until his brother was right beside him. He glanced up to see a pale figure and jumped to the natural conclusion.

"Gah! A ghost!" he screamed.

Canada clamped a hand over America's mouth. He had just escaped France and England. He didn't want them to find his new hiding spot.

"Geez Alfred, it's just me. Look, I'm sorry I accused you of playing a prank. I don't know what's going on, but I don't think you have anything to do with it." Canada would describe his brother as careless, oblivious, ignorant… the list could go on for hours. But he'd never thought of him as needlessly cruel. And he could tell America wasn't enjoying what was happening any more than Canada.

America and Canada spotted England at the end of the hallway at the same time. America urged his brother to make a run for it and prepared to distract the Brit. "E-England," he stuttered unheroically, disturbed by the intense look in England's green eyes.

"Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!" said England, stroking America's lips with his finger as he maneuvered America against the wall.

America flushed. He didn't understand much Elizabethan English, but he understood the general gist of England's comment. "Are you okay, England?" he asked with a touch of worry. Normally he took care not to show too much concern for his former caretaker, but this evening was getting seriously strange.

England gazed up with half-lidded eyes and a tender smile. "Sweet Canada, so we grew together, like to a double cherry, seeming parted; but yet a union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem."

America groaned. England had confused him for Canada. What was wrong with the world? It really was opposite day. He opened up his mouth to correct England loudly, but then suddenly shut it again when he realized he could continue to pretend to be Canada and enjoy England's attention. Not that he enjoyed England's attention or anything, he was just sick of being ignored. Yeah, that was the reason.

"O, let me kiss this princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!" cried England before he pressed his lips against America's. England kissed hungrily, using his tongue to explore America's mouth. America hoped that England didn't _actually_ think he had cherry lips. That would be awkward. But on the whole, the kiss was really pretty nice. Oh, who was America kidding? It was freaking fantastic. America would have been thrilled to continue smooching England for the rest of the night, but his plans were ruined when England suddenly pushed him away.

"America! What do you think you're doing?" England protested with a scowling glare and a flushed face.

America gaped. England recognized him! England was back to normal! And he was annoyed at America. Oh wait, that was just part of things being back to normal. America realized that England was still waiting for his response. He defended himself, "What? I didn't do anything. You kissed _me_ because you thought I was Canada!"

England frowned. "Can-a-who?"

"Canada. My twin brother. Northern neighbor. Snowy backyard. Hockey-loving hat." America couldn't decide whether to be pleased that things were back to normal or annoyed at England for forgetting his brother once again. Only America was allowed to forget his brother! America realized that England must have been drunk. It explained a lot of his behavior for the past half hour. He didn't smell any alcohol on England's breath, but the poor nation had such low tolerance he had probably gotten completely wasted on one glass of alcohol.

"You're drunk," he accused.

"That's ridiculous, I have an amazing tolerance! Besides, I haven't had anything to drink all night." England frowned in concentration. "Unless _France_ has been slipping something into my drinks," he muttered darkly.

"Yeah, if he has, he's been drinking the same stuff himself."

"What?" England asked, looking genuinely confused.

"France has been courting Canada. It's seriously disturbing."

England didn't understand why portions of the night were a blur, why he had been kissing America, or who this Canada was, so he decided to focus on the one constant in his life—France was being a pervert. He waved a hand dismissively. "I fail to see what's so peculiar about France making advances on a fellow nation. That's simply France being France."

America shook his head. "You don't get it. He's not hitting on Canada. He's wooing him. He's not even trying to cop a feel or anything. It's freaky as shit." America flailed his arms to try to demonstrate how disturbing he found France's chaste behavior.

They both heard the doorbell ring. England turned to leave, but America grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"No, wait." America still had a thousand questions buzzing around in his head. He needed to know why England had been chasing after Canada. For some reason, it was really important, even though France's advances weren't. "Why Canada?" he asked.

"What?"

"Is it 'cause he likes tea and never calls you old?"

"Who's Canada?"

"God, England! Stop playing dumb."

"Dumb?" England laughed. "That's rich, coming from you."

"Fine, I'll just go back to eating my pizza."

"Yes, go ahead and get fat, I'm sure that will solve all your problems."

America opened his mouth for another retort when they both heard Sealand's screams. England pushed past him and ran for the kitchen, America following closely behind.

* * *

Spain shifted his weight from foot to foot. Dios mio, it was cold in Britain during the winter. He could see why so many Brits flocked to the Spanish Riviera after retirement. It was nice of England to invite them to a party at his house, but he wished the Brit would answer the door. His perfect ass was freezing.

"Haha! The awesome me totally found it!" Prussia shouted. He brandished the spare key and then dramatically opened England's front door. The party had arrived!

* * *

Sealand carefully brewed a new cup of tea and filled a mug of hot cocoa. Since his initial plan had failed, he was going to try again, but this time with England and America. He felt bad for tricking America, but he assumed the American would understand that independence sometimes required drastic steps. He carefully hid the extract bottle in his pocket when he heard someone approach.

"Ooh, is that Cola Cao?" Spain asked cheerfully. "I need something warm!"

"No, wait!" Sealand yelled, unsuccessfully trying to reclaim the mug from Spain's grasp.

Spain lifted America's mug and took a careful sip. He slowly smiled at Sealand, his green eyes filling with predatory lust. "You are the cutest thing ever!" he cooed.

Sealand began screaming for England. He ducked behind the counter and whimpered in terror. England had given him the 'bad touch' talk years ago and he had used Spain as a prime example of a 'bad touch' country.

His older brother burst into the kitchen moments later. England instantly sized up the predatory look in Spain's eyes, grabbed a sauce pan, and swacked the Mediterranean country in the head, knocking him out cold.

"Are you hurt, Peter?" England asked, kneeling down as he checked Sealand for bruises. The micronation shook his head and reassured England that he was okay. England was still a jerk, but sometimes it was helpful to have an ex-pirate brother around for protection.

"Wow, England, you really are deadly in the kitchen." America laughed to himself as he stepped over Spain's prone form.

England glared as he stood up. "I'm still holding the sauce pan, you know."

"Oh no, don't cook anything!" America cried in mock-terror.

"Do shut up."

Sealand glanced at the two bickering nations and realized that this was his chance to act. Sure, England's protection was nice on occasion, but he really wanted independence. He hesitantly offered the already-prepared drinks to both nations. As they accepted the mugs, Sealand raced to the living room and back to get his video camera. He gleefully watched from the doorway, absolutely positive that his plan would work this time. They each took a sip and Sealand hit record.

"I still cannot believe you devoured all nine pizzas," England complained. "You're going to have a heart attack and die young, just like the rest of your country, if you keep eating such disgusting fast food."

"Dude, chill out."

"And the worst part is that you export your nasty fast food to my shores. Just because your people are fat doesn't mean you have any right to make the rest of us suffer."

"Hah! Says the country who invented 'Bangers and Mash.' Geez, that sounds like a crappy porn film. Heck, knowing you, it probably is."

"You didn't complain about my food when you were a child!"

"I didn't know better when I was a kid!"

Sealand lowered the video camera and glanced down at the potion in his hand, utterly confused. He had put several drops into England's mug. And it was definitely England's mug, no one else would use a mug decorated with pink fluffy unicorns prancing on rainbows. Yet, England was acting they same way he as he always did around America. Sealand couldn't blackmail him with this!

The micronation suddenly realized the problem. The love juice could only work on a person once. He'd already given it to England and Spain had drunk from America's cup. That was the only logical explanation. There was no other possible reason the two nations would continue acting in their usual manner. Sealand huffed in irritation. Plan #472 was a bust. He had wasted time reading Shakespeare for nothing.

There was only one thing left to do. Time to figure out plan #473.

* * *

France blinked. He remembered arriving at England's house and he remembered Act I of the play, but try as he might, he couldn't remember the past hour. He shrugged and walked towards the voices in the kitchen.

"You're such an old man, always complaining about how things suck nowadays!"

"At least I appreciate the finer points of life, you narcissistic philistine."

"Take that back, I totally support Israel!"

France spotted Prussia and Canada at the other end of the kitchen and waved.

"Who's ready for this party to start?" the albino yelled cheerfully as he plopped the beer onto the table. He had visited a dozen liquor stores to find one that sold an awesome German brew. He needed alcohol that was at least as awesome as him.

England and America didn't even notice the interruption.

France sidled up to the German nation and attempted to slip his hand into Prussia's pocket. Canada glared and slapped away the hand.

France sighed. Then he noticed Spain unconscious on the floor. Perfect!

"Yeah? Well, your party sucks. My Christmas party is gonna be so much better. And you know what? You're uninvited! Nobody likes you, everyone left you, and we're all having fun without you."

England froze and suddenly noticed all of the other nations in the kitchen. "Get out," he said in a low and dangerous tone. "Get out!" he yelled.

France flung Spain over his shoulder and raced for the door. He recognized the dangerous tones of Pirate England. Once he was safely outside, he took the opportunity to casually grope Spain's ass. Mon dieu, such a perfect ass. Perhaps when Spain woke up, they would have some fun. The night wouldn't be a complete waste after all.

America, Canada, and Prussia followed at a more leisurely pace. Unlike France and Spain, they had never been Pirate England's victims.

"That was strange," America said as they walked out the door.

Canada nodded. "I think I prefer being forgotten," he said softly.

"Scheiße!" Prussia cursed. "I forgot the beer."

Canada wrapped one arm around Prussia and the other around America. He knew just what his boyfriend and brother needed to cheer them up. "Let's go get ice cream!"

America perked up and immediately agreed. Prussia required more convincing, but gave in when he learned about beer-flavored ice cream. The 21st century was full of awesome surprises.

As they walked away, no one noticed England watching from the window.

* * *

England leaned his head against the cool glass. This wasn't how he had wanted the night to end. And Sealand didn't even have a chance to finish the puppet play. No wonder the poor boy seemed so disappointed. England closed his eyes. Shakespeare's words merged and twisted in his head—beautiful rhymes of jealously, unrequited love, sorrow, and pain. Four lines to sum up the emotions coursing through his veins.

_Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights,  
Four nights will quickly dream away the time.  
What crime in time's swift passage that I bide  
Twelve score years and leave the truth untried?_

* * *

END OF ACT II.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Apologies for Act II's sad ending. But don't worry, it's just a temporary obstacle in the path of TRUE LOVE.

**Shakespeare References**

The deflower/devour mistake comes from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.

Everything England says to Canada is a line from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ (the only changes I made were to substitute the name "Helena" with "Canada"). I've taken a lot of stuff out of context, but I hope it works well in its new setting. And yes, there IS a line in the play that says "Transparent Helena." It works so well with Canada that I absolutely had to use it :)

For anyone keeping track, Sealand is Puck, Canada is Helena, America is Hermia, England is Lysander, and France is Demetrius. If I were following the plot faithfully, the story would end with Franada based on France imbibing a permanent love potion (the ending to _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ is actually rather creepy once you think about it: Demetrius has his mind permanently altered with magic and everyone seems to be okay with it).

The final four lines are a mixture from both plays. The first portion just means that four days will pass quickly. The second part—which I've altered—refers to the 240 years (twelve score years) in which England has failed to confront the truth of his feelings.

**Other References**

The royal 'we' (also called the majestic plural) is the use of a plural pronoun to refer to a single person holding a high office, usually a monarch. Think of the Queen pursing her lips and saying, "We are not amused."

Pizza Express is a real UK pizza chain that serves a pizza called "American Hot." Hawaiian pizza typically has pineapples and ham on top and is super delicious. I'm not sure if many places outside of the U.S. serve it.


	3. Opposite Day

**Act III: Opposite Day**

_Saturday. Three days before Christmas.  
_

Sealand didn't understand what had gone wrong. He checked through the videos and there was absolutely no blackmail material—at least nothing to use against England. He thought that he had captured film of England seducing that one country (what was his name again?) but as he watched the videos he could only see England. England reciting Shakespearean love poetry to himself was mildly embarrassing, but not good enough for independence.

Engrossed in watching the videos, Sealand didn't notice England approaching behind him. He didn't notice England staring over his shoulder as he watched one of the recordings of France's stuttering courtship attempts. He didn't notice when England's glance chanced upon the empty love potion bottle in Sealand's rubbish bin.

He certainly didn't notice the sudden look of comprehension that flashed across England's face, followed even more quickly by anger.

"You put a love potion in our drinks, you little brat," England muttered darkly. Startled, Sealand dropped the video camera. It landed on the carpet with a dull thump, the only sound in the angry silence.

Sealand panicked. He ran out of the room, but England caught him by the back of his shirt before the micronation had gone more than 10 feet. For an old man, England moved surprisingly fast. Sealand pouted and crossed his arms, annoyed that he was probably going to be double-grounded. He really needed independence if he ever wanted to leave the house again.

"Your stupid love potion didn't work anyway," he whined. It wasn't fair being punished for a plan that didn't work!

"I'm sure you just didn't use it properly," England replied wearily. Now he finally knew the cause of last evening's peculiar behavior. He should have known that magic was involved.

"I did too!" Sealand protested. "I totally put some in your drink and America's drink and it did nothing. Your stupid magic sucks."

England froze. "What? When was this?"

He listened as Sealand recounted the story and then absent-mindedly agreed that there probably had been something wrong with the potion. It wouldn't do to let Sealand suspect the real reason. England's thoughts churned at a furious rate. If this meant what he thought it meant, then England needed to find a way to talk with America. England instantly imagined the scenario in his head.

* * *

_England arrives at America's doorstep. It's as if he's seeing America for the first time, since he now knows the American loves him back. Blue birds suddenly appear and the background music swells. England notices America's puzzled expression and begins to explain, "Alfred, I've realized you're in love with me, and I think it's time we drop the charade."_

_The American continues to look confused. He can be rather slow on the uptake, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. "What?" he asks._

_England tries to explain the love potion and his subsequent epiphany, but America just laughs. "Love potions aren't real!" he says. Or perhaps, "You're crazy, old man."_

_His derisive comments anger England. "You're the one who tried to create a ray gun to turn your enemies gay!" he retorts. America calls it the 'gay gun' and thinks himself clever._

"_That's technology, not stupid magic." _

_And England's attempt to confess degrades into shouted insults about magic and technology._

* * *

England frowned. Perhaps his initial plan of simply explaining the situation was doomed to failure. Maybe he needed to confess his own affections and trust that America would reciprocate, once given the chance.

* * *

_Same scene, but this time England begins by saying, "I'm in love with you, Alfred." Maybe he arrives with a dozen roses._

"_What?" America asks in disbelief. "Dude, April Fool's isn't for another four months."_

_No matter how much England tries to explain, he can't shake America's doubt. They'd spent too long swapping insults to suddenly trade tender endearments. America thinks it's a prank, or payback for some imagined insult, or suggests that England has been brainwashed by aliens. The conversation ends in a dispute over the existence of aliens._

* * *

No, that wouldn't work either. England had to find a way to make America realize his own feelings and confess to _him_. He needed a strategy. Anything that involved discussion of magic or love potions would be tricky, unless he appealed to America's belief in Disney magic. America had always loved fairy tales and happily-ever-afters. England nodded to himself as an idea began to form in his head.

England locked the micronation in his room, confiscated Sealand's camera, and perused the footage. France's stuttering attempts at romance would make excellent blackmail material. England would never _ask_ France for assistance, but he might be willing to blackmail the other nation into helping him.

* * *

_Washington, D.C. Tuesday. Christmas Day._

Canada told the taxi driver to stop in front of the house that was "lit up like the Fourth of July." When the driver spotted it, he realized exactly what the Canadian meant. The house practically _glowed_. Christmas lights decorated the fence, the tree, the bushes, the windows, and the eaves. But not just any Christmas lights: red, white, and blue lights. America thought that every holiday was a good opportunity to show off his patriotism. And boy howdy did he have a lot of patriotism.

Canada and Prussia walked up the driveway as sounds of music and happy laughter filled the air. America might not be able to find most nations on a map, but he was amazing at guilt-tripping even the most introverted nation into attending his party.

America greeted his brother with an enthusiastic bear hug. Canada enjoyed the hug, since recent restrictions on international flights meant that he'd left Kumajiro at home. No one had believed his 'seeing-eye bear' excuse. Even though they normally exchanged presents at the end of the night, America insisted on giving Canada his gift early.

"You'll see why." America explained with a grin. He disappeared into one of his many rooms and then returned with two large boxes. Canada didn't know where America had found patriotic Christmas wrapping paper, but he had somehow. He handed one to Canada, who began to carefully unwrap his box. Canada undid the tape and lifted the paper without ripping it.

America shifted from foot to foot impatiently. "Come on, just rip it, bro! I got tons more wrapping paper."

"Some of us recycle," Canada calmly replied.

America grinned. "You're gonna use my patriotic paper?"

Canada stared for a moment. Realizing that America had made a shockingly good point, he ripped the paper and opened the box. Inside, he found a red sweater. He lifted it up. America pressed a button near the hem and the word CANADA began to flash with white and red LED lights on the front.

"Now no one will forget your name, 'cause it's right there on your chest!" America proudly explained. He'd ordered the presents after he promised Canada that he'd find a way to make other nations notice him. Heroes kept their promises.

"Kesesese, you should get one for Ukraine," Prussia suggested with a smirk. America laughed and handed him the other box. Prussia tore the paper off in seconds and revealed a black sweater with PRUSSIA in red and yellow lights.

Canada hugged his brother tightly and thanked him for the gifts. He didn't know if the shirt would work (he had actually tried something similar at the London Olympics without success), and Prussia's gift was only going to exacerbate the albino nation's narcissistic tendencies, but he was thrilled that his brother had remembered. Some years America forgot to get him a gift at all. America's smile softened. "Hey, now I know how much it sucks to be ignored."

Prussia slipped on his sweater and then faced the room. "The party can start!" he yelled. "The awesome me has arrived!" He pumped his fists in the air and jumped into the dance floor.

Germany planted his face in his hands. The other nations rolled their eyes, except Canada, who understood Prussia's need for constant attention better than anyone else.

"_Non_, I'm afraid the party cannot start until we've arrived," Francis declared as he and Spain walked through the door carrying several bottles of wine. It wasn't a real party without a liquid form of holiday cheer.

The wine flowed freely, the music pounded loudly, and the nations partied the night away. America decided that the Christmas celebration was almost perfect. But for some reason, his heart didn't feel merry and light.

* * *

When they weren't pulling pranks or getting drunk, the Bad Friends Trio (or so they called themselves, every other nation thought 'Bad Touch Trio' was more apt) were terrible gossips. Other nations falling in and out of relationships was their favorite topic, although they carefully avoided any story involving Austria or Hungary because no one liked it when Prussia started unconvincingly ranting about how he was better off alone. Least of all Canada, who then had to bring out the maple-flavored beer to cheer him up. Maple syrup could cure any type of sadness.

As the party continued, the three nations noticed the conspicuous absence of a certain Brit. England complained, and he grouched, and he grumbled, but he always came to America's Christmas parties. His absence was very suspicious, leading the nations to each create their own theories.

Prussia insisted that the real reason was that America had finally realized England's food was poison. Obviously, anything that could harm the awesome Prussia was deadly to less awesome creatures (i.e. everyone else).

Spain thought that England was at the party—he had seen Sealand running around. But every time he tried to approach the micronation, the child ran away.

France smiled his Mona Lisa smile, making Canada narrow his eyes suspiciously. "France? Do you know something?"

"Ne t'inquiète pas, mon chéri. Papa France has a plan."

Canada couldn't decide whether to be reassured or even more worried.

* * *

America knew the true meaning of Christmas: the Coca-Cola bear and Santa had invented the holiday in the 1930s when people were feeling depressed so that shopping malls could play the same song on repeat, people could eat tons of cookies, and families could browbeat their children into behaving with the threat of coal lumps. Gosh, America loved Christmas. Its materialistic excess—the piles of presents, strings of gaudy decorations and heaps of food—were all of the things he loved most about his country. Especially the presents.

He tore through his presents, laughing happily and thanking everyone for their great gifts. He effusively praised Japan's new horror video games, happily munched the maple candy from Canada, and promptly lost the personal organizer from Germany.

After America finished with the pile of presents, he noticed France approaching with a leer on his face. He didn't remember a present from France, which seemed like a bad sign. France usually liked to give him coupons for "_Un nuit avec moi_." America didn't understand French, but he had a pretty good idea what they meant given the condom taped to the back. At least France gave XL condoms, unlike that communist jerk Russia. (It didn't occur to America that France intended the condoms for his own use.)

"_Cher Amérique_, I have a special gift waiting in your bedroom," France purred.

America groaned. "Geez France, I already told you I'm not interested in that kind of stuff."

"Oh, I think you'll love this one," France replied mysteriously.

America sighed, but followed. Whatever it was, he was going to have to get it out of his bedroom eventually. France's gifts could be… messy. And how did France even get into his bedroom? America remembered locking his bedroom door to keep out unwanted party guests (he's started the practice after finding Denmark and Norway making out on his bed), but it seemed like France had some sort of super bedroom unlocking secret powers. France stepped to the side and gestured to the door with a grin, inviting America to push it open. America gripped the knob with resolve and pushed, mentally preparing for the worst.

He opened the door…

…and found that France had set up a curtain to block the view of the actual gift. America pouted, annoyed that he had built up a moment of dramatic tension for nothing. He tried to build the drama again, but the moment had passed, so he just pulled aside the curtain to reveal a life-sized statue of Arthur dressed up like the Statue of Liberty

"You liked my original gift so much, I thought I would design you another," France explained from the doorway.

America rolled his eyes. He knew the whole world thought he was an idiot, but this was taking it a little too far. "France, that's obviously just England in a bad Lady Liberty costume."

He had to admit, he was impressed by England's ability to hold a steady pose. His time as a Buckingham Palace guard had given him incredible patience and posing skills. America was a little tempted to see what crazy stunts he could do before England would react. He bet England would start blushing if America undressed in front of him.

"What? No it isn't. Madame Tussaud is so skilled she can make a wax statue _seem_ completely real," France replied with his best persuasive abilities. He was very good, after years of honing his craft with flowers, chocolates, and promises he didn't intend to keep.

But America refused to be fooled. "He just blinked."

France dismissed the statement with an elegant wave of his hand. "Animatronics," he blithely replied. He stepped closer.

"Uh… France? What are you doing?"

"Isn't he beautiful?" France murmured, slowly tracing his fingers across the statue's cheek. "Why, he's so lifelike that I get the sense he'll awaken with merely the lightest brush of one's lips…"

France leaned forward to complete the kiss, but America suddenly grabbed him from behind and pushed him out of the room. "Thanksforthegift!" America shouted in a rush as he slammed the door behind France.

"Geez, did you really think this would fool anyone?" America asked with a sour expression. "If you wanted to come to my party that badly, you shoulda just said."

He crossed his arms and frowned. England was really taking this whole pretending-to-be-a-statue thing too far. "Come on England, talk to me here."

"Strange, I had the impression that _you_ weren't talking to _me_," a British voice announced from the far side of the room. America spun around to see England standing at the closet door. He turned back to look at the statue. It was still there. He looked back and forth a few more times. Yep, there were definitely two Englands in his bedroom. Huh.

England ignored America's confusion and carefully circled the statue. "Madame Tussaud is rather good, isn't she? Amazing work for a rush job. There's a reason I let a Frenchwoman keep a location in London."

America frowned. This was definitely the weirdest gift France had ever given him. It was even weirder than the chocolate dildo present he had received for the last Fourth of July. In France's defense, the chocolate had been top notch.

He didn't want to ask, because England was just going to act superior and pretend like the reason was obvious, but America couldn't stand not knowing. "So what's up with the statue?" he finally asked.

England refused to look at him. "I thought you'd like to know how the story ended. You never did like when I left a tale unfinished."

America snorted. "Dude, I already checked wikipedia. The shepherdess is actually the lost princess, she marries the prince, and it turns out one of the servants has been hiding the Queen the whole time. The final scene is a 'statue' of the queen coming to life with stage trickery. You didn't need to _make_ a statue to show me the end of the play." America sighed. England could be ridiculously obsessive when it came to Shakespeare.

"That wasn't the story I meant," England replied. "I'm thinking of one that starts with a mischievous boy who finds a love potion. He decides it would be amusing to make his older brother fall in love with his arch rival. But he makes a mistake and both the brother and his rival fall in love with someone else, which makes a fourth person jealous. Finally, the little brother gives the love potion to his older brother and that jealous person."

England casually leaned against the statue and waited patiently. It seemed like he wasn't planning to finish the story without a little prompting.

America tilted his head to the side. He couldn't help it, he always wanted to know how a story ended. It was the _only_ reason he finished the Twilight books. "What happened next?" he asked eagerly.

England leaned forward, as if ready to impart a great secret. "Nothing," he whispered.

"…nothing?"

"Correct. The two characters continue their normal bickering."

"So the love potion didn't work?"

"It worked."

America frowned. "But you just said it did nothing," he complained. England needed to get his story straight. A love potion wasn't supposed to just stop working. Normally he liked arguing with England. In fact, it was usually super fun to irritate the island nation, since England could get worked up over the most insignificant details (like the difference between 'may' and 'can'). But it just didn't seem as fun anymore and he didn't understand why.

"I never said the potion didn't work. I told you that the two characters continued to bicker and argue. They had a huge row and one stopped talking to the other."

"Geez England, did you set up this elaborate statue prank so you could tell me a dumb story?" America sat down heavily on his bed. "Why are you here, England?" he asked.

England sat down next to him and for a long time, America thought he wasn't going to answer. "I need you to tell me how the story ends," the island nation softly replied.

"I don't know how it ends."

"Then at least tell me why you're jealous."

America laughed. "I'm not jealous! Why would I be jelly?" The blond nation had a foolproof system for dealing with inconvenient truths: he refused to think about them. La-la-la-la-la. He had nearly pushed the uncomfortable thought out of his head when he made the mistake of looking at England. America couldn't tear his gaze away from England's piercing green eyes. His breath hitched. Something had been wrong with his stomach ever since England's puppet party and being in England's presence was making it worse. Normally, he would have blamed England's food, but they had eaten take-out.

"Why would I be jealous?" America asked again, trying to understand the tight, unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

England's expression softened, as if he understood America's inner turmoil. "That is the question. And I think if you know the answer, you'll know the ending. But you don't have to tell me right now, I can wait."

America nodded, still confused. "Okay, yeah, that's good. I should, uh, I should get back to the party. You can come if you want," he offered awkwardly.

"No, that's alright. You'll know where to find me when you're ready." England stood up and walked into the closet.

America couldn't help but laugh. He knew England sometimes had a bad sense of direction, but this was ridiculous. "Uh, dude, the exit is the other door." He opened the closet to show England the way out, only to find that the closet contained nothing more than America's incredible collection of jeans and nerdy t-shirts. He gaped in shock.

"What the hell?"

There was only one possible answer: he had a portal to Narnia in his closet.

* * *

France was enjoying himself immensely. Spain had the buttocks of a god and seemed to be luxuriating in the extremely lower back massage France was giving him for Christmas. The best part was Romano's glares. Jealousy was such a beautiful emotion in other people.

"Would you like to join us, mon petit frère?" France asked the angry Italian. He made a groping motion with one hand. "I have two hands!"

"Yes, join! It is very relaxing!" Spain cheerfully agreed.

Romano turned as red as a tomato and stomped away. Unfortunately, Spain insisted on following the foul-mouthed nation, leaving France to his own devices. He contemplated the odds that Prussia and Canada would be interested in a three-some (conclusion: quand les poules auront des dents), and then spotted America drifting around the room in an extremely distracted mood.

He decided to check up on his little love plan. "Amérique! You seem to be deep in thought. Perhaps I can help?"

America glanced up at him. "Oh hey, France. Sorry, what didya say?"

France laughed. "I noticed that you were pondering a difficult question, and I wanted to offer my assistance."

"Well, I guess you might know something about it. I mean, you do kinda spend a lot of time making out in closets. Okay, so here goes: how do you know if a closet leads to Narnia?"

France frowned. "Huh?"

"I mean, do you need to spot a satyr? 'Cause I haven't exactly seen Mr. Tumnus hanging around lately."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

America sighed. "Gee, thanks for nothing France."

"I thought you had a question about l'amour! Not stupid children's tales."

"Hey! Kid's stories are all about love. True love and soulmates and that's how you know…" America gaped as it suddenly clicked. "Oh shit, he was talking about _us_!"

Ditching France, America pushed through the crowd of nations until he found the blinking red lights. His gift really was an awesome idea. "Mattie, you're in charge of the party!" he yelled to his brother, before racing out of the room.

"Eh?"

Prussia punched his fist in the air. "Awesome! Let's drink all his booze!" He opened America's fridge, only to discover that all that was left was beer and wine, and even those drinks were nearly gone. America had learned his lesson from earlier parties and no longer stocked hard liquor.

After examining the near-empty fridge, the trio agreed it was time to take the party to an actual bar. Like the Three Musketeers, they gathered together to shout their group motto:

"Alcohol!"

"Alcool!"

"Alkohol!"

The other nations took that as their cue to join the fun-loving countries for drinks, or to get out the hell out of the United States before the trio invaded the streets.

Finland quickly dropped off the last of his presents and picked up a sleeping Sealand. He sputtered in surprise as Sweden promptly lifted them both up into his arms and carried them out of the house.

Denmark attempted to pick up Norway in the same manner, earning himself an immediate punch in the gut. Iceland trailed behind the fighting couple, pretending that he didn't know either of them.

Canada locked the door as the last of the nations left America's house. He felt a buzz in his pocket and checked his phone to see a text from Prussia.

_U comin birdie?_

Canada glanced up and saw Prussia grinning from the sidewalk. He remembered! Canada smiled and ran to catch up.

* * *

With France's reminder, America suddenly made the connection between England's story and recent events. He finally understood why England had told him a love story. America knew that True Love's kiss was the most powerful force in the universe. And now he realized that he was the one who had broken the love potion's hold on England with a kiss. It explained why the kiss had felt so freaking magical.

The tight, unhappy feeling in his stomach disappeared, replaced by something warm and wonderful. England had been an important part of his life for so long, he'd never even realized it was love. And he'd certainly never dreamed that England loved him back. But now everything was right with the world. Like a hero, he needed to rescue the damsel in distress from the dragon of loneliness. With the power of true love's kiss, he would bring the England-statue to life. It always worked in the stories.

America found the statue just the way he had left it. As America leaned close, he started to feel a bit awkward with the statue staring at him in an unblinking manner. He grinned and lowered the eyelids with his fingertips. Then America moved in for the kiss.

It tasted like wax.

America jerked back as he heard a dry chuckle from the corner of the room.

He slowly turned to face a smirking England. "So Alfred, did you have something you wanted to tell me?"

America opened his mouth, but the words refused to come out. The room was suddenly a lot warmer than he remembered. Geez, confessing was harder than he'd ever realized. No wonder England had gone to such elaborate lengths to avoid a direct confession. America grinned as he realized the perfect way to solve his problem.

"I'm declaring it opposite day, starting now."

England blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Opposite day is when you don't say the opposite of what you mean."

"I don't understand."

"That sucks." America grinned happily. He took a deep breath and looked England straight in the eye. "Arthur, I hate you."

England's expression froze, but America could tell he was only seconds away from a torrent of anger. America had to act fast.

"Opposite day. That means you have to listen to what I say, and ignore what I do." And to prove his point, America strode forward and kissed the real England on the lips. It was even better than the first time and way better than stupid wax lips. England didn't react for the first few moments, but he quickly caught on, and responded enthusiastically.

England pulled back and smiled.

"I hate you, too."

* * *

**Epilogue**

_London. Midsummer's Day.  
_

Sweden and Finland always sent Sealand to stay with his England for the last two weeks of June. Finland explained that adults liked to have some 'alone time' for the midsommar festivities. They promised to explain when Sealand was older, which seemed particularly unfair since Sealand wasn't going to grow older until he finally gained independence.

He spent the first few days creating new plans for independence, but was quickly distracted when America came to visit London. They played video games, ate take-out, and spent an entire afternoon harassing the Buckingham Palace guards. (America declared that irritating stiff-necked Brits was his favorite hobby.) Sealand was so happy for the awesome company, he didn't even think to question the purpose of America's visit.

After a long day of awesomeness, Sealand fell asleep on the couch, the Nintendo DS still cradled in his hands. He felt arms gently lift him and carry him up the stairs. Dimly, he could hear England and America talking as they deposited him in his bedroom.

"I'm still sad you made me get rid of the statue."

"Oh, stop whingeing. I wear that ridiculous costume whenever you want."

"You like it, too."

"Shut up."

The door closed behind them and Sealand drifted into sleep, visions of independence dancing in his head. He dreamed that one day, one of his zany schemes would finally succeed. And eventually, one of them did. But that's a story for another day…

* * *

END OF ACT III.

AND THEY BICKERED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hurray for happy endings and clueless micronations! I like when England, America, and Sealand act like a family, because Sealand totally looks and acts like a USUK love-child.

I really enjoyed writing Sealand in this story. I tried to portray him as a typical 8 year-old, but I find that kids are hard to write. I've also discovered that I have no idea how to write Spain. He's cheerful and has a great ass, and that's basically the limits of my characterization. Oh, and he really likes cute children. Sorry, Spain, you totally come off as a creeper in this story. My bad.

On the plus side, I finally wrote the love potion fic I've been dying to write :)

**Shakespeare References**

_The Winter's Tale_ ends with a scene where a 'statue' of the queen 'comes to life.' Usually, it's portrayed on stage by having the actor stand really still, and there are hints in the play that the queen has actually been hiding out for 16 years. So you can understand why America expected the statue to come to life. I decided to keep the hint of magic by having England disappear into the closet. You get to decide whether England is just good at hiding or if America really does have a portal to Narnia in his closet.

**Other References**

_Opposite Day._ Children in the U.S. celebrate 'opposite day' by saying the opposite of what they mean. Since America is very childlike, I decided that he would also enjoy playing the Opposite Day game.

_Midsummer's Eve_ is an important holiday in both Finland and Sweden. It's traditionally associated with both sex (see: phallic maypoles) and magic. This gives you a hint why the play_ A Midsummer Night's Dream _is all about sex. By my estimate, 50% of Shakespeare is about sex, which is something high school teachers tragically fail to mention :P

* * *

_For aught that ever I could read,  
Could ever hear by tale or history,  
The course of true love never did run smooth._

— Scene I, A Midsummer Night's Dream


	4. Christmas Omake

[Hey folks! I know I marked this story as complete, but I wanted to write a Christmas one-shot, and this seemed the best place to add it. I promised you I would tell you how Sealand got Independence, and here it is!]

**Act 3.5: Christmas Omake**

_One year later.  
_

_Washington, D.C. One week before Christmas._

It was Wednesday, which meant one thing: movie night with Canada. America prepared several bowls of popcorn and smothered most of them in butter, setting one aside so Canada could cover it with maple syrup instead. America handed a bowl to his brother and then plopped down on the other side of the couch, artfully arranging his own bowls so they were all within arm's reach.

"So Mattie, any requests?" America asked, his mouth already full of delicious, buttery popcorn.

"No horror films," Canada replied quickly, fulfilling his promise to England to keep America away from any and all films that might include references to ghosts. England preferred to not be smothered in the night by a terrified America.

America laughed, amused that his brother was scared of horror films. Of course they didn't bother him in the slightest 'cause he was a hero, but he agreed that a comedy sounded good.

As Canada flipped through the movies, America turned his head and saw Sealand still sitting at the kitchen table reading. England and his younger brother were staying with America during the world conference leading up to the winter holidays this year, earning a number of knowing glances from some countries and invitations for threesomes from France. America feigned blissful ignorance. England threatened bloody vengeance.

Despite England's pleasure that Sealand found himself too busy enjoying America's vast electronic collection to bother interrupting the meeting with his usual antics, England was not amused to discover that Sealand enjoyed spending his time playing video games with Tony and complaining about 'f—ing limeys.'

(America had made a joke about how he _loved_ f—ing limeys, which had earned him a night on the couch, even though it was _his_ home.)

To keep Sealand away from the video games and foul-mouthed extraterrestrials, England decided to assign a reading list. The mountain of plays and books had kept Sealand busy and muttering all day about stupid Elizabethan English.

America shook his head, movie night was meant for movies! As a hero, it was his duty to save Sealand from an overabundance of literary knowledge. America used his arm to leverage himself into a more comfortable position and called, "Hey Peter, come watch a movie with us!"

Sealand frowned and shook his head. "I can't. I've got to finish this stupid play."

America smiled. He liked Sealand—with his big eyebrows and English accent, it was like having a mini-England around. Plus, Sealand hero-worshipped America and there was no easier way to enter America's good graces. The North America nation gestured for the micronation to join them in the living room and promised to show him something cool.

As Sealand approached, an intrigued expression on his face, America pushed a few buttons on his high-tech remote to show off his entire movie collection. America loved movies, so it consisted of nearly every movie ever produced in America, Canada, England, or Japan. He even had some of China and Korea's stuff. (He was still pissed at China for stealing all of his blockbusters, but he mildly forgave the elderly nation after his hilarious mistranslations created the masterpiece of Darth Vader screaming 'Do not want!')

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret that all of the high school kids at my place know. Every Shakespeare play ever written has been turned into a movie. So if you don't wanna read the play, all you gotta do is watch the movie," America explained, clicking through the screens to show Sealand the category of 'movies based on Shakespeare plays for lazy high school students.'

"It's not _quite_ the same as reading the play," Canada said quietly, but no one noticed.

"Wow…" Sealand said with sparkling eyes. He grinned, "So can we watch one with the plot of Twelfth Night?"

"Sure, we can!" America clicked play on 'She's the Man,' clapped to turn off the overhead lights, and handed one of the smaller bowls of popcorn to the micronation. The Christmas lights on the tree provided the only illumination in the room, casting soft glows of red, white, and blue.

Sealand took a seat between the two North America nations and eagerly watched as the cross-dressing, soccer-loving hilarity ensued.

By the end, he had detailed notes on all of the relationships. Viola (dressed as a guy, like Hungary!) loved 'Duke' Orsino who loved Olivia who loved male!Viola (a guy who was surprisingly feminine, like Poland!). The story nearly ended in recrimination and tears, but it all worked out okay in the end because Viola had a male twin so everyone got what they wanted.

Sealand liked happy endings. He decided to take America's advice and watch The Lion King instead of reading Hamlet. He wondered why England had never told him that it was possible to watch movies instead of reading fusty old plays.

"So what did you ask Santa to get you for Christmas this year?" America asked Sealand as the credits rolled. America's eyes gleamed with excitement.

Sealand rolled his eyes. "I'm not a little kid. I know Santa isn't real."

"Dude! You _live_ with Santa. How do you not believe in him?" America asked incredulously.

"Don't ruin it for America, he still loves Santa," Canada whispered to Sealand with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "You should see the length of the letters he writes to Santa."

"Does it work?" Sealand asked.

America grinned. "Heck yeah! How else do you think I got so much cool stuff?"

Sealand nodded to himself and decided it was worth a try. He bid the brothers good night and went up to the guest bedroom, where he pulled out a pen and a scrap piece of paper and drafted his letter.

_Dear Santa Claus,_

_I've been really good this year and have barely annoyed my big brother Arthur even though he's a total jerk. I want independence for Christmas. Also, please give my brother a lump of coal._

_Love,_

_Sealand_

He nodded to himself, slipped downstairs unnoticed as America and Canada continued their movie marathon, and placed the note into America's 'to mail' pile. He hoped that independence would be able to fit in Santa's bag.

* * *

The next movie had such loud explosions that America and Canada didn't hear the door bell ring the first few times. They only noticed when the movie switched to a sex scene, which was still loud, but not quite as loud as America's national-anthem door bell.

America jumped over the back of the couch and ran to the entryway, sliding along the wooden floors in his socks. He grinned as he opened the door, eagerly expecting to see Prussia and England, completely plastered and wearing something completely ridiculous. He wasn't disappointed. Prussia was covered in strings of red lights and what looked like sausage links.

He glanced around for England and spotted the nation riding a shopping cart at the top of the street. England had hoisted the Jolly Roger on a make-shift flag pole and was shouting "Rule Britannia!" as he sped down the hill and toward America's driveway. America raced to the front of the front of the garage and managed to catch the cart before it collided with the garage door.

England staggered in America's direction like a drunken sailor—which he was—and America got a good chance to admire his outfit. England wore an eye patch, a presumably fake sword, and a sexy Santa outfit with a scandalously short hemline. He probably should have been shivering cold in the outfit, but the liquor had warmed him up nicely, leaving his face flushed as red as the color of the outfit. America was impressed, considering that England had _left_ the house wearing trousers and a dull sweater vest.

The island nation draped an arm around the larger nation's neck and accepted America's help walking up the steps to the house. He smelled like rum and had probably stolen the outfit, the shopping cart, and the flag. America hoped the owners wouldn't turn up looking for their lost property. Still, the advantage of Prussia/England drinking nights was that Prussia usually managed to cart England back to America's doorstep with a minimum of drunken ranting, other than on the rare occasions when America got a call from the police station and had to post bail. And from long personal experience, Prussia was good at timing the drinking so that England arrived home before he passed out, saving everyone the trouble of carrying him home.

Canada padded over to the door at a more sedate pace and gave the drunken duo an appraising glance. "Any outstanding warrants I should know about?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. National personifications enjoyed diplomatic immunity, but it was still embarrassing when airport security pulled them over.

Prussia pulled off the lights and tossed them behind a bush. He grinned. "Nah, biride, just some awesome stuff that'll be in the papers tomorrow. Here, hold my sausage for me."

"Wait… people still get papers?" America asked, tightening his grip as he felt England start to slump forward. England drowsily murmured something about uncultured gits, but he was too far gone for his usual drunken rant. America grinned happily as England rested his mop of messy blond hair on America's shoulder. England was rarely affectionate in public, other than when he was very drunk or very sick, so America took the opportunity to enjoy the flushed embrace of a cuddle-happy England whenever he got the chance.

America nodded goodbye to Prussia and Canada and then shut the door behind him with his foot. He led England over to the sofa and finished watching the last ten minutes of the film with England cuddled up next to him. The lack of acerbic British comments felt rather strange.

After the movie ended, America carried the bowls into the kitchen and noticed the new letter in the pile. Spotting the handwritten address, he smiled. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at the letter. After all, Santa could always use a little help.

When he returned to the living room, America smiled at the island nation's ridiculous outfit (only England would try to dress as pirate Santa) and the curled-up position he had adopted after he passed out on the couch.

"So… Sealand asked for Independence for Christmas, and I was thinking I should get it for him. You have any objections?"

England snored.

America decided that meant he didn't object.

* * *

_Three days before Christmas._

England smoothly glided across the ice, keeping a watchful eye on both Sealand and America to make sure they didn't hurt themselves by pulling a stupid stunt on the ice.

Sealand was skating with a group of children, bragging that he was a Prince of Sealand. They clearly didn't believe him.

"Where's Sealand?" one asked.

"It's an independent nation next to England."

"Oh, okay... Where's England?"

England resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. It was bad enough that Americans couldn't seem to remember the difference between England, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom, but it was even worse when they didn't seem to recognize _any_ of the names.

America hadn't even apologized for his people's rampant ignorance about other countries. Instead the nation had laughed and claimed that England enjoyed the confusion, because it gave him something to complain about.

"You're gonna complain about something anyway, so isn't it better that you have something real to complain about?" America had replied with his usual laugh. Then he had grinned and quoted the Bard in an atrocious English accent, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Do you even understand what that means?"

"Sure, it means that you're you and you smell nice like roses."

England had not even tried to argue with that poor attempt at logic.

On the ice, England's gaze drifted back to America as he thought about the other nation. What the statement lacked in logic, it made up for with tender romance—something that England had discovered was true for America in general.

America's grin widened when he caught England's glance and suddenly England just knew that America was going to try to do something stupid to impress him. He sped up and attempted an Axel jump in a clear patch of ice. His skates slipped out from under him during the landing and he fell straight on his back. England heard a distressing crunch. He knew nations couldn't die, but they could still feel pain.

He cut across the rink, pushed aside a bystander, and kneeled down next to America.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

"Fine," he replied, blinking rapidly in the light.

England wasn't convinced. "What year is it?"

"Uh…"

"Can you count backwards from 10?"

America grinned unsteadily. "Is it New Year's already?"

England shooed away the bystanders, reassuring them that the young man was alright. "If he's making bad jokes, he's fine."

He helped America to his feet and led him to one of the tables near the skating rink. They sat together, watching as Sealand had a heated debate with an American child over whether it was cool to be a duke or a baron. She thought titles and classes were silly things.

America recovered rapidly, reciting the year and threatening to sing the entire "99 bottles of beer" song.

"It's a good thing you didn't want me to recite the alphabet backwards. You'd say I was wrong at the first letter," he added.

"Well, I'd be right. It's Zed not 'Zee.'"

"You want me to kneel before Zed?" America asked with a grin. England stared blankly, causing America to sigh and explain, "It's an internet thing." The day England understood internet memes would be the day America understood Shakespeare.

* * *

_Christmas Day._

England thought he knew America well, but every now and again the other nation found small ways to surprise him. England knew that America was a lazy git who never woke up early and always arrived to meetings late. This was largely true. America slept until noon if he could and it usually took a small army to drag him out of bed before 7am. But on one day of the year, and one day alone, he happily awoke before the break of dawn. And that day was Christmas, when America couldn't wait to see the gifts that Santa had left in his stocking.

America was noisy in the morning, which normally didn't matter since England had already showered and finished his morning cup of tea. On Christmas, it meant that England had to wake up early too, grumbling the entire time.

"It's four bloody am in the morning," England complained as he stumbled out of bed, his eyes blurry and his hair lop-sided. His grouchy expression lightened as America pulled him close for a soft kiss, morning breath and all.

"I have got an awesome surprise. Come on, Sealand's already in the car!"

America tossed over a set of clothes to England. He bounced up and down and impatiently tapped his foot as he waited for the Englishman to finish dressing.

"What are you gabbing about?" England asked. He had barely finished pulling on his green jumper when America grabbed him and pulled him towards the stairs.

"You know those car commercials where you give someone a car with a giant bow on top for Christmas?" America asked as he hopped down the stairs, glancing back at England with a mischievous smile.

England felt the pit of his stomach drop. "_Please_ tell me you did not purchase a car for Sealand."

"Nah, of course not!" America tugged on his coat near the door and pushed a different one into England's arms. "Nope, what I was _going_ to say is that this present required an even larger bow. Now, hurry up! It takes three hours to drive to Norfolk!" Unable to wait a second longer, he wrapped a scarf around England's neck and nearly dragged him out to the car.

Sealand had already claimed the front passenger's seat, so England slipped into the back and buckled on his seat belt.

The pulled through a fast food drive-through not far from the highway, giving America a chance to order coffee and England a chance to decline the nasty hot drinks Americans dared to call tea.

England leaned his head against the headrest, closed his eyes, and—despite his consistent complaints that America drove too fast and on the wrong side of the rode—managed to fall asleep.

* * *

England woke up as they pulled into a parking spot at a shipyard. He glanced at the window and finally understood what America meant about the giant bow. As they spilled out of the car, England could not believe his eyes.

America had placed a giant red ribbon on a U.S. battleship. The U.S.S. Independence.

As he posed in front of the ship, America spread his hands wide. "Here it is, Sealand! Santa asked me to give you the Independence for Christmas." He leaned forward and whispered, "But just for Christmas Day, okay? My boss would get mad otherwise."

Sealand's eyes widened dramatically. "My own battleship?"

"No! Absolutely not! If he can't drive a car, he definitely cannot steer a ship," England protested. "I completely forbid it." He grabbed the micronation by the hand and pulled him back to the car. Sealand wiggled out of his grasp.

"Actually, my place doesn't have age requirements for steering ships. It's totally legal here."

"Something can be both legal and a terrible idea."

"You were sailing the seas at his age."

"That was a different age, we had different expectations."

"It's my ship—see, it says **U**nited **S**tates **S**hip—so it's my rules. And the sailors get today off, so no one's aboard and no one's going to miss it for a day." He grinned. "So I say we have fun."

England opened his mouth to respond and realized that Sealand had raced across the parking lot and boarded the ship. He followed the micronation toward the ship, America trailing closely behind. They finished climbing up the ladder to the top deck just as the ship started to pull away from the dock. Thanks to technology, the ship was steered at the push of a button—something Sealand had become increasingly skilled at doing over the past few days playing America's video games. This same technology prevented England from busting down the door to the bridge. Unable to reach the micronation, he whirled to vent his spleen at America.

America pouted. "I don't understand why you're so annoyed, I asked you if it was okay to give Sealand the Independence last Wednesday and you didn't object."

England frowned. "Last Wednesday? You mean drinking-night-with-Prussia Wednesday?"

"Yup."

"The night after which I woke up dressed like a pirate Santa, with a foul-tasting mouth and a pounding head?"

"You also yelled at the light and said you wanted to die," America added helpfully. "And your hair was really cute because it all pointed to one side. Like the best case of bedhead ever. And I saved the outfit for later because hot damn…" he finally noticed the glare on England's face and stopped talking.

England arched an eyebrow. "And you thought letting Sealand play around with a battleship was a good idea because…?"

"If you give kids a bit of an outlet, they won't rebel in major ways. He wants to be like you, but you keep saying no, so he pushes back, until soon or later, it's going to break."

Silence filled the corridor, other than the soft rumble of the large engines beneath their feet. America stared at him with a guileless expression, but England wondered, not for the first time, how much America chose to ignore simply because he could. Perhaps they _were_ just talking about Sealand, but he somehow doubted it.

"Besides, I programmed in a course that'll get us back to Norfolk before sunset. The Navy would be super mad at me if I lost another ship," America said with an easy grin, breaking the tension. He took England's softened expression as a sign to continue and grabbed the older nation's hand. "I thought this would be fun for us, y'know. Just a romantic boat ride." He smiled and pointed to the flag pole. For the first time, England noticed that the battleship was flying the Jolly Roger, instead of the Stars and Stripes.

England laughed, enjoying the breeze in his hair and the slight tang of salt in the air. "You do know me rather well, don't you?" The former pirate suddenly smirked, something about the sea, the wind, and the flag reminding him of his sea-faring roots. "Then again, I know you too."

He patted the pocket where he had tucked a spool of red ribbon. After a bit of trial and error, he had discovered that he could fashion a red bow to cover all of the essential bits. He knew how much America loved to receive gifts wrapped with a giant red bow.

"Huh?"

"Meet me in the crew's quarters in about 15 minutes."

America stared slack-jawed when he found England sitting on a bunk bed in the crews quarter's wearing nothing but a red ribbon. Then America grinned and unwrapped the ribbon with his teeth. They barely noticed the poor quality of the mattress or the distant humming of the engine, as their entire existence narrowed to the pleasures of sweat and skin and tangled limbs, and then soft words shared in a tender embrace.

Later on, after they returned to Washington and put Sealand to bed, America agreed that it _was_ the best present he had ever received. He smiled warmly and England could read the reason in his eyes.

All I want for Christmas is you.

* * *

THE END.

FOR REALSIES.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

USUK and PruCan make me very happy together because I imagine they would go on the best double dates.

Also, sorry for teasing you guys about giving Sealand his independence and then merely giving him the U.S.S. Independence. I briefly considered having America give him Independence, Missouri, but I decided that a ship made more sense for a sea fort and that it would be too hard to find a bow big enough to wrap a town.

'**Do Not Want' and 'Kneel Before Zod' References**

A Chinese bootleg DVD of Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith (amusingly mistranslated as Star War: The Backstroke of the West) included a number of delightful howlers, such as the "Jedi Council" becoming "The Presbyterian Church" and "the force" becoming "the wish power." But its most famous, was when Darth Vader learns of Padme's death and his famous line "NOOO" was translated as "Do not want" in the subtitle.

(The translation makes sense if the subtitles were translated from English to Chinese to English. Chinese doesn't have a single word for 'no.' Instead, something like '[wo] bu yao' literally means '[I] do not want.")

I don't know where 'Kneel Before Zod' comes from, but I like to imagine England shouting 'Kneel Before Zed' when he gets really drunk.

**Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


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